


Take a Chance on Me

by oneoneandone



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:56:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28412019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneoneandone/pseuds/oneoneandone
Summary: Everybody wins today.
Relationships: Kelley O'Hara/Hope Solo
Comments: 1
Kudos: 31





	Take a Chance on Me

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _Kelley and Hope talking smack before their game against each other on Sunday._

It starts the week before their match. 

It starts, as most things do, with Kelley.

/ _Hey, I just checked the sched and guess where you’ll be this weekend …_ ;) /

Hope’s phone dings with the alert just as she is stepping out of the elevator in the parking garage of her doctor’s office. And despite the difficult session with her therapist, she smiles. 

\ _Hey yourself. Heading home after my appt with Meier–can I call you later? \_

\ _And yes, I’m aware. Unlike someone I know, I actually plan my life more than two days ahead._ \

Kelley sends an enthusiastic thumbs up in return, and Hope smiles again. She knows the other woman is well aware of her appointment that morning. That the text is a reminder that she’s on the defender’s mind, that someone cares for her. 

That it has nothing to do at all with football, and everything to do with compassion. With love.

And when she pulls out of the parking structure, her heart feels light. Light and full. 

—–

“So,” Kelley says from the other end of the line, and for a moment, Hope forgets that there are miles and mountains between them. 

It’s something Kelley does so well–make her forget. She has this way about her, this ability. Somehow she talks over the voices in Hope’s head. The voices that try to keep her down. Somehow they’re quieter when Kelley is around. Somehow Kelley keeps them in line. 

“So,” Kelley repeats, and Hope knows that there’s a smile at the other end of the line. That smile Kelley gives her, and it seems like her alone. “I’ve been thinking, when you’re in town this weekend, you should let me show you around.” 

And there’s a part of Hope that wants to leap at the offer. That wants to take her up on it immediately. 

And it’s the same part of Hope that spent forty-five minutes with her therapist just the day before, trying to put words to the things that Kelley makes her feel. The part of her that wants to believe in things like _forever_ and _at first sight_. 

Except all Hope has ever known of these ideas are stories, fairy tales. 

She knows there’s no such things as forever. 

She remembers the long, slow fall of learning to love Kelley. 

And so she shakes her head. 

“I don’t know, Kel,” Hope says, “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. We’ll be pretty busy–the game, recovery.” 

Kelley doesn’t call her on the lie. 

And Hope loves her all the more for it. 

—–

“What do you say to a friendly wager,” Kelley asks the next time they talk, two days before Hope is scheduled to fly cross-country with her team. 

And Hope chuckles. 

“I’d say it’s unethical for players to gamble on the outcome of their own games,” she teases back. “Didn’t you learn anything from our baseball movie night?”

“Yeah,” Kelley answers, “I learned to avoid cornfields in Iowa.” 

Hope just groans, and goes back to folding laundry. 

“Anyway,” Kelley continues, “I wasn’t thinking gambling, per se. No money exchanged.”

“So what were you thinking,” Hope asks, intrigued despite her resolution not to be. 

“I’m glad you asked, Hopester,” Kelley says, and Hope can imagine her instantly–sitting cross-legged on her bed in that small New Jersey duplex. Old jeans, bare feet, a Stanford t-shirt, a tiny hole just along the collar. 

It’s an image so innocent, so intimate, it pulls at something deep inside of her. A wanting she’d long thought her body had forgotten. 

“More like a dare, you know?” the defender continues. “Like when you were a kid, loser would have to eat a worm or ring Boo Radley’s door. Something like that.”

Hope can’t keep the laugh from bubbling up and out of her chest. She can see it so well, Kelley barefoot and covered in the red Georgia dust, overalls and a missing tooth, raising hell all over the neighborhood. 

And maybe it’s not the greatest of ideas, but this seems like the kind of moment her therapist told her to be more aware of. To be less afraid of. The kind of moment that changes things, that marks an end and a beginning, all at once.

“I’m not eating any bugs,” she says after a few seconds, a big sigh punctuating her words. “And I get veto power if whatever terms you come up with are gross or involve putting anything other than what a reasonable person would consider food into my mouth.” 

She’s no fool. This isn’t her first O’Hara rodeo. 

“Deal,” Kelley says quickly from the other end of the line. “I score on you, I win and you do what I say. You keep a clean sheet, and vice versa. You think on what you want if you win. I’ve got to come up with something new since apparently the Great Hope Solo is too good for worms.” 

It’s useless to pretend Hope’s not laughing any longer. She’s given up on laundry and is laying back on her bed, phone sitting on her chest as she holds her belly, laughing harder than she has in a long time.

“Deal,” she answers when she’s got herself under control again. “And just remember, Scout, nothing weird. Or dangerous. Or illegal.”

But Kelley doesn’t answer. Just laughs and hangs up.

—–

They don’t talk for the next couple of days, but Hope gets text after text from Kelley, every idea for her half of the wager more ridiculous than the last.

/ _Hope, you said no bugs but what if they’re covered in chocolate?????_ / 

/ _Do you think you wd make a gd mime?_ /

/ _What do u weigh and r you afraid of heights?_ /

/ _Hypothetically, how do you feel about sharks? Big snakes? Birds of prey? HYPOTHETICALLY …_ /

And Kelley is a complete goof, but Hope finds that it’s her most endearing quality. Because not once during the last few days has she felt alone. Has she felt the creeping sadness that’s overwhelmed her in the weeks since her grandmother’s passing. 

She has one more therapy session before meeting the team at the airport, and her therapist brings it up, Kelley. The smile on Hope’s face whenever they talk about her. 

“She makes you feel safe,” Dr. Meier says, reading in-between the words that Hope struggles to find–because how can she describe a woman like Kelley? How can she explain what the other woman makes her feel?

But the doctor, the doctor seems to understand.

Safe.

“She does,” Hope answers quietly. “She makes me feel like everything will be okay.” 

And the doctor looks at her for a moment, the kind of gaze that feels like it singes along her skin. 

“You know, Hope,” the doctor suggests, “that’s not a bad thing.”

And the thing is, Hope’s already begun to figure that out for herself. 

—–

/ _Good luck_ / 

The text comes while Hope’s in the locker room, warmed up and ready to line up for the start of the match. 

And when she responds, it’s with a smile on her face, the thought of Kelley’s smile, her laugh, in Hope’s thoughts. 

\ _Back at you (you’ll need it) \_

She laughs as she hits “send,” and the sound echoes off the concrete walls. 

—–

“So,” Kelley says, coming up behind her on the pitch. “I know what I want for my prize.” 

And when Hope turns to look at her, to respond, every thought flies out of her head. 

She’s soaked with sweat and there’s a smudge of grass along her cheek, bits of dirt clinging to her thighs. 

She shouldn’t be beautiful, Hope thinks, smiling down at the younger woman. 

And yet. 

And yet she is. 

She’s one of the most beautiful sights Hope has ever seen. 

And Hope thinks of texts sent just to check-in on difficult days, of silly stories, of laughing so hard that her belly hurt after. 

She thinks of safety, and what it means when a person–not a place–starts to feel like home. And she smiles, happiness bubbling up from her chest, flooding her lungs with airy cheer. 

“What do you mean, your prize,” Hope asks, gently poking the shorter woman with a strong finger. “The score line is 0-0. I kept my clean sheet.”

“Maybe,” Kelley admits, “but I scored on you.”

Hope smirks at her. 

“Offsides doesn’t count,” she states, and watches the way Kelley’s eyes narrow, how her nose scrunches up in scorn. 

“Technically,” Kelley drawls out, her Southern accent stronger in her displeasure, “I scored.” 

And Hope considers holding out, but she remembers her therapist’s words as she walked out the door earlier that week. 

“I know your world is about keeping things out, Hope, but sometimes–sometimes it’s okay to let something, someone, through.” 

The thing is, Hope realizes, Kelley slipped through a long time ago. 

And honestly, it’s one of the best things that’s ever happened to her. 

“Tell you what,” Hope says, “why don’t we call it even. We both win–you scored, I had a clean sheet. Nobody has to eat any worms.”

But Kelley looks distressed by the compromise. Like she’d wanted–like she’d needed–to win. 

Like winning–not the game, but the wager–had meant everything to her. 

“Kelley,” Hope asks carefully, “what was your prize going to be?”

But she already knows the answer. It’s there, it’s right there, in the younger woman’s eyes. 

And Hope wants it, she wants it too. She wants it in a way that takes her by surprise. 

Kelley looks up at her sheepishly, blushing, and Hope struggles to keep her hands at her sides. 

“It was just going to be simple,” she confesses. “I was going to ask you on a date.”

Hope’s heart stops for a moment, then starts again, stronger. 

An end, her therapist had said, and a beginning.

“Oh, Kelley,” the goalkeeper says, and steps closer. “Ask me. Ask me now.”

It’s quiet between them for a moment, for a heartbeat. Players pass them, the crowd is loud in the stands. But between them is calm, is silence. 

And then Kelley speaks. 

“Hope, do you want to go on a date with me, celebrate a good game?” 

The smile comes unbidden, so large, so wide. Muscles she hasn’t full used in years. 

“I’d love to,” she answers, and then places her hand near the small of Kelley’s back. “Come on, O’Hara, let’s go get changed. I just found out I’ve got a hot date tonight.”

The apprehension, the doubt, fades from Kelley’s face, and her voice is gentle when she responds. A soft “okay,” a sweet smile.

And they don’t hold hands as they walk, but they walk close enough that every step or so their shoulders bump together. And it’s a comfort, the physical reminder that something is changing between them, something is growing.

“Hey,” Kelley says, just as the reach the point where their paths diverge, “you never told me what your half of the wager is?” 

Hope laughs, and taking a quick look around, brushes her lips against Kelley’s freckled cheek. 

“Don’t worry,” she teases, “I was just going to have you wear one of my Husky shirts. But I have a feeling that might happen at some point anyway.”

And Kelley’s delighted laugh follows her all the way to the locker room, all the way into the warm shower.

Light and full indeed. 

Her heart–it overflows. 


End file.
